Making Friends
by Twist
Summary: A charming little story involving assault.


Making Friends

By: Twist

Disclaimer: None of it's mine, except Wayne and the highly conjectural parts of the story.

"_I wanna show all of my haters love, this one's for you. If you had it like me and I was in your shoes I would probably hate on me too. See when ya getting big cash stacks all the haters hate that cause the hate to see ya be successful – I want to show all of my haters love so I wave to you like good morning, ha-ha-ha-ha-haters."_

--

Havelock Vetinari had never much been one for friends. His aunt had remarked on it once or twice, though it would be an overstatement to say she fretted. Havelock's aunt was as prone to fretting as he was to making new friends.

Nevertheless, a new school called for new initiative, and thus young Havelock found himself sitting in a circle of first-years in his House, cross-legged on the floor of the dormitory. A lady Assassin was watching their interaction imperiously. They had been instructed to share information about themselves to better get to know one another, without any disparaging remarks toward other students or outright physical attacks. It was proving more difficult for some than for others.

"This is bollocks," the boy to Havelock's right muttered, reflecting a thought Havelock would never consider vocalizing but which he agreed with anyway. The other boy looked sidelong to Havelock, who raised an eyebrow, a gesture that was unnerving even when he was eleven. "I'm Wayne," the boy said, as if that explained things.

"Havelock," the young Lord Vetinari returned delicately.

"Ooer, you're nobility, right? From Genua?" Wayne whispered, his eyes lighting up. "You ever see a crocodile?"

"Yes on both counts," Havelock returned warily. "How did you know that then?"

"What, the crocodiles?"

"No, the nobility."

"My mum made me read Twurp's Peerage to learn my letters. Plus, you've got a bit of an accent."

Havelock made a face. "The whole book? Foul."

"I know, right?" Wayne sighed, frustrated, as the woman supervising attended to a small fight that had broken out at the far side of the circle. A young Klatchian boy seemed to be trying to force another boy's nasal cartilage back into his brain cavity. "He looks right mad, dun't he?"

"A bit," Havelock answered mildly, watching the whole process dispassionately.

"So you've seen a crocodile then? What was it like?"

Havelock blinked. "Huh? Oh. I dunno, scaly and big and mean with teeth in? And greenish-brown," he added, uncharacteristically not wanting to disappoint the other boy.

Wayne's eyes lit up. "Have you ever touched one?"

"Ye-es," Havelock answered slowly. "My aunt thought it would be a good idea if I learned to subdue one of them before I came here. She said it would help ease the transition."

Wayne looked pensive. "Might do. I dunno, you ever been to Ankh-Morpork before?"

"No. Well. When I was an infant. But I doubt that counts."

"Nah." Wayne smirked. "I reckon you'll be fine if you can fight a crocodile though."

"It was only a small one."

"Oy! Shut up, you scags." The two boys looked over to a disgusted-looking ginger boy. He wrinkled his be-freckled nose at them. "As if anyone else here wants to hear some backwater nobility and guttersnipe talking about stupid lizards."

"Hey," Wayne said, scowling. "Watch it, Ginger."

The red-headed boy sniffed and turned away. "As if I would listen to some commoner."

"And who are you then?" Wayne challenged.

"Faustus Downey. Son of Lord Grover Downey."

Wayne's expression turned unimpressed. "What, that old baggage?" The Downey boy's face turned stormy as Wayne poked a thumb at Havelock. "Anyway, you're not even a proper Lord yet, like him."

Downey smirked at Havelock. "So your parents are dead then? Get eaten by crocodiles, did they? Well, your mum anyway. Everyone knows what happened to the last Lord Vetinari."

Wayne's eyebrows rose but he didn't say anything. A slight scowl crossed Vetinari's face. "It's none of yours."

"Isn't it?" Downey chuckled unpleasantly. "Your mum was too fat to outrun the big stupid lizards, wasn't she? Ate her right up like a Hogswatch goose, didn't they? How's your crazy aunt nowadays?"

"That's not true, now shut it," Vetinari ground out, his aunt's warnings to maintain composure in all circumstances drowned out by the tsunami of pre-teen rage.

"He fought a crocodile, don't provoke him," Wayne warned. Other boys in the circle were starting to pay attention to the hushed conversation, although the supervisor was still tending to the bleeding boy opposite.

"And you think you've got the same rights to title as me, when you grew up in some swamp shack with your whore of an aunt -"

While the verbal assault Downey was dealing Vetinari was certainly of interest to the other boys in the circle, the very rapid series of events that ended them was even more so. In less than thirty seconds Vetinari had jumped on Downey, wrestled him to the floor, and clamped the red-headed boy's jaw shut with his belt. They sat there, very still, Vetinari straddling Downey's shoulders with his knees on the downed boy's arms, before Downey quietly passed out.

Vetinari stepped off the boy and calmly started to put his belt back on. The supervisor watched him sternly. When he had finished, she looked at him, absently blotting the last victim's bleeding nose. "You are young Lord Vetinari, yes?"

"Yes, miss."

"And you know the way to the headmaster's office?"

"Yes, miss."

"I will see you in my office in thirty minutes with a note from Doctor Follet. You shall be copying the Guild rulebook. Bring a pencil."

Vetinari nodded. "Miss." And he left the room.

Wayne turned to the boy to his right. "He is a _badass_," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "I want to be friends with him."

"Have you ever considered the energetic capabilities of dead, compressed and liquefied animals?" the other boy returned, not looking up from his sketchbook. "It could be very useful for powering machines."

--

"- And that is the gods' truth as to how I met Havelock Vetinari," the pianist said to Vimes, sipping his drink. The Commander blinked.

"You're joking."

"Not even a little bit."

Vimes looked across the ballroom to the thin, austere figure listening at the head of the Biologists' Guild, who was waving his arms wildly and impersonating some kind of animal. Possibly a mollusk. "Wow," he said, because that seemed to be all he could think of.

"I know, right?"

The two sipped their drinks and reflectively watched the Patrician for a minute. Then Vimes looked slyly to the pianist and asked "You reckon he could still take a crocodile?"

Wayne looked to the ceiling thoughtfully. "I dunno. You all have a zoo in this city?"

--

Love, Twist

Comment to review por favor, my sweet chinchillas.

Bitches don't know bout my crocodiles.


End file.
